


Something About You

by MoMoMomma



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, Improper use of magic, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, Rimming, Unrealistic Sex, You Can't Actually Come That Much, you'll die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9300758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: Percival isn’t going to mock him for this. Not like so many have before. He’s not going to walk away with a huff--no, he’s going to stay.And enjoy every second of it, it seems.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rrrowr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/gifts).



> Essentially, this is my fulfilling Rrrowr's wish to see Newt covered in his own come. Because he's an excitable little thing. I hope you enjoy!

It is a decidedly strange sensation to have the pleasure of orgasm and bone-deep mortification swamp through the body at the _exact_ same time. Newt doesn’t really like it. But he, unfortunately, has a lot of experience with it.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts at Percival’s shocked expression, hands flying up to cover his face, the heat of his cheeks nearly burning his palms.

Or maybe that’s just the full body flush of embarrassment.

There’s a puddle of come on his stomach, pooling in his belly button, and one _awful_ stripe on Percival’s chin and if God exists, he will throw Newt into the underworld any second.

If he has any sense of mercy.

“I have a--well, it’s not a problem, per se, but--ah, I get..excited? I’m so sorry, I’ll go, I don’t-- _oh_!”

His cock is still hard, still incredibly sensitive, and he nearly bites his tongue off when Percival drags his tongue over it _again_. Like he didn’t learn his lesson last time. Newt squirms against the sheets, legs kicking out uselessly when Percival hums and licks a drop of come off his slit, tongue pressing down for a heart-stopping second.

“Do you have any idea how hot that is?” Percival growls, before flattening his tongue and running it up the length of Newt’s throbbing cock.

“What--me coming like a teenager?” Newt whines, Percival snorting before muscling Newt’s legs up and over his shoulders.

“You’re sensitive. I like it. So eager to spill for me. And not the slightest bit soft after such an impressive performance.”

Newt bites back the explanation--that he’d desperately swallowed down a _very_ experimental, and no doubt _very_ illegal, potion before Apparating to Graves’ home for dinner. He’d been...hopeful? The potion swore on lengthening the pleasure, made promises right on the label that it would lead to an entire night of sensual fun.

Apparently even it wasn’t enough to stop Newt from coming like an untouched virgin, but it did have the side effect of not letting his erection die down afterward. He only hoped it did eventually wear off, or he was going to have to have an extremely awkward talk with Percival in the morning.

If he didn’t die from lack of proper blood flow.

“I--oh! Percival, what are you--” He cuts off with a moan, arching nearly entirely off the bed when there’s a brush of wet pressure against his hole.

His hands scramble, against sheets and skin and finally Percival’s hair, gripping tightly. All the while Percival seems content to let him wonder about the answer, licking against him in long, slow strokes. Almost coaxing, like he’s trying to relax Newt, apparently ignorant of the way Newt’s body is curling towards him in one tense ball of energy.

“I don’t think--”

“Just enjoy it.” Percival blows gently, making Newt shudder and shake, the cooling come sliding wondrously against oversensitive skin. “Let me in, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.”

Newt comes again when Percival dips his tongue _inside_ , stroking wonderfully. His body spasms, foot drawing back and kicking hard into Percival’s shoulder as he hides his face and shakes apart. A spurt of come catches him in the forearm and Newt peeks through his fingers to see that he’s made more of a mess, glistening ropes of come on his chest now.

Percival doesn’t seem bothered, by the prematurity or by the kick, and leans down over him from where he’s settled on his knees between Newt’s splayed thighs. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, tongue stroking over the come that had landed there, and Newt jolts like _he_ got kicked. He mewls, wriggling, trying to force his legs up around Percival’s hips, to keep him in close.

Bit difficult when all his muscles seem to have gone on holiday.

“Such a darling thing,” Percival hums, switching nipples, nails dragging slow and soft down Newt’s sides. “So responsive for me. Do you know what you’re going to look like when I’m done with you?”

“A-Aren’t you done _now_?” Newt asks plaintively, before his breath freezes in his lungs when Percival grips his still stiff prick with one hand.

“Oh, no.” There’s something decidedly evil in Graves’ dark gaze, something that makes Newt swallow back drool. “I’m far from done. I want you _soaked_ in your own come. Just a limp little exhausted body for me to fuck into. I want you to _sob_ out one last drop while I spill inside you. And then I want you to come again when I clean you up with my tongue.”

“C-Clean me up?” Newt manages, body alight at the idea, burning with something far from embarrassment at the dangerous words.

Percival isn’t going to mock him for this. Not like so many have before. He’s not going to walk away with a huff--no, he’s going to stay.

And enjoy every second of it, it seems.

Percival hums and leans down to lick a stripe up his throat, ending at his jaw and worrying there with his teeth. Gentle, ever so gentle, and Newt digs his fingers into Percival’s body, resisting the urge to start begging when they’ve only just started.

“Oh yes,” Graves breathes into the curve of bone, delicate compared to the hard jut of his own. “I’m going to enjoy cleaning you nearly as much as I enjoy dirtying you, darling boy.”

There’s a part of Newt that feels freed with the intense focus, that feels confident in a way that he’s never felt before. Hard to, admittedly, when every lover before Percival has scoffed and rolled their eyes at his sensitivity. But something in the… _hunger_ he can feel rolling off Percival makes him confident, makes him certain in ways he typically only is when it comes to explaining beasts.

“I--I think you should open me up.” The flush burns his cheeks but he pushes through, delighting in the quiet inhalation of shock near his throat.

“Oh?”

“W-With your fingers. Stretch--stretch me out. Get me ready for you. I might--I might even come again before you get your c-cock inside me.”

Percival shivers between his thighs, muttering something and pushing back to loom over him once more. He drags careful fingers through the mess on Newt’s stomach, most of the come pooled in the almost concave dip between his hips, coating his fingers before reaching further down. Slick fingers meet the wetness left behind by Percival’s tongue and Newt shudders, hands reaching up and grabbing onto his own hair to keep himself centered.

His knees snap together defensively when the first finger slides inside, an easy glide with the makeshift lube and how relaxed he is. Percival coos at him, one hand cupping his knee and brushing a thumb over the inside in a distractingly slow pendulum.

“Don’t be shy, lover. Let me see you. Let me watch you come. _Show_ me how much you love what I’m doing to you.”

Every endearment chips away at a piece of Newt’s already shattered armor and he complies easily, letting his thighs splay wide, completely open and exposed to a loving gaze.

A loving and _desperate_ gaze.

Percival’s cock is weeping, nearly flushed purple with blood, and Newt feels almost guilty for making him wait so long. He opens his mouth to apologize when Graves slips another finger in, just as slick, but the slight burn making Newt’s breath catch.

“Don’t you worry about me.” He growls, obviously having tracked Newt’s gaze, and he twists his fingers, pulling Newt into an arch. “I’m going to get exactly what I need when I sink inside you.”

“M-More.” Newt gasps out, some raw pain inside his stomach absolutely _ravenous_ for more.

For more fingers, something thicker, for all the promises Graves is snarling out.

The third finger slips in easier, a muttered spell making everything slippery and slick down there, and the stretch nearly makes his teeth ache. Percival’s cock is bigger, much bigger than 3 fingers, even if they are decidedly long fingers. It will burn, taking him to the base, letting him fuck all the frustration and waiting into Newt’s body, and the thought sends him into the abyss once more.

Graves doesn’t stop while he comes, pressing on something inside that makes Newt choke and spurt come onto the underside of his chin. One still spasming thigh is hitched up, pulled onto the sharp jut of Percival’s hip, and then there’s a blunt pressure at his hole. Percival grips his hip with slick fingers and Newt knows he’s pressing bruises into the pale skin there as he grits out his words.

“Tell me I can, Newt. Tell me I can fuck you open, make a space inside for just me.”

“P-Please.” His voice shakes and Newt _hates_ it for a split second, hates how it makes him sound afraid.

He can see the indecision in Percival’s voice, the doubt there, and something wicked takes hold of him. He swipes two fingers through the come on his throat, almost enough to gather in the hollow there, and reaches up to push them through Percival’s lips. Almost immediately a tongue slides over them, teeth fastening gently onto the knuckles to keep them there as Percival’s eyes glint like lightening.

“I want you to f-fuck me.”

Newt thinks both of them stop breathing when Percival pushes forward, stretching him near the point of breaking, and he shudders at the groan that escapes around his fingers. He curls them against Percival’s tongue, wrapping his leg around and tugging forward, whining at the pressure. He’s insatiable for it now, chasing the orgasm dancing on the edges of his mind. The orgasm that spills through him when Graves’ bottoms out, grinding in deep and slow, still nursing on Newt’s fingers like they’re pacifying his lust for the moment.

“Gorgeous.” Percival slurs out, hips jerking minutely like he’s only holding onto his control by a thread. “So good for me.”

“Be good for me.” Newt stretches, pulling his fingers from between Graves’ teeth, feeling powerful and sexy and seductive even while he’s covered in come.

Percival’s hands tuck under his thighs, pushing up and out until he’s spread wide, and Newt reaches up, bracing himself on the headboard. Good thing too, because the first brutal thrust nearly makes him bite his tongue, teeth snapping together in a grimace of over-sensitization.

Everything is _more_. Brighter and hotter, every thrust and slow grind ripping at the last of Newt’s self-control. He feels wanton and out of control and more loved and protected than he ever has. He’s being fucked so hard the come is sliding off, leaving trails down his sides, pooling under him, and Newt couldn’t care less.

Couldn’t care less about anything except the helpless look on Percival’s face, like there’s something primal inside him destroying him in it’s quest to get to Newt. He grabs the sides of his face, pulls him into a kiss and gasps into Graves’ mouth at the change in angle. Like this, tucked in close, sharing air and space, every single jerk of Percival’s hips makes the thick tip of his cock press against the spot inside Newt that sends shocks through him.

“I’m so--so close.” Percival pants against his lips, biting down, Newt sliding arms round broad shoulders to keep him tucked in tight.

“Come on, then.” He moves, sets his lips against Percival’s ear, another oncoming orgasm already making his hips ache. “Make a mess of me, Percival.”

The curses that color that air tint it blue until the feeling of warmth deep inside him flash the world white. Newt shakes with every errant pump of Percival’s hips, his come smearing up Percival’s chest, making a right mess of _both_ of them.

It feels...right. Feels like Newt laid a claim the same way Percival bit and gripped one into his skin.

They collapse together, Graves’ bigger body bearing him down into the ruined sheets, comforting and warm and _his_. Newt wasn’t likely to give Percival up before this, fond of the man and his gruff exterior covering a darkly sweet heart.

Now he’ll draw blood from anyone that dares to try and take him away.

“We--we made a mess.” He says, wiggling pleasantly, cock finally gone soft between them.

Percival grunts, still panting into his neck, and grinding down in a gloriously unhurried way. There’s a soft sound, a _filthy_ sound as the come slides between their bodies, and it seems loud in the sudden silence of the room.

“I think I said something about cleaning that mess.” Percival mutters, Newt feeling his lips curve from where they’re pressed against the ache of a new bruise on the underside of his jaw.

“In a moment,” he sighs, and holds Percival close, reveling in the freedom.

He’s not...broken or wrong or _dysfunctional_. Newt just wasn’t made for the other people he tried to share his body with.

He was made for Percival.


End file.
